oneshot Strawberry Shortcake's Single Flaw
by kawaki
Summary: Yoochun visits his grandmother. ft. Park Yoochun of DBSK


Note: Harabeoji – Grandfather; Halmeoni – Grandmother

Strawberry Shortcake's Single Flaw

My halmeoni doesn't remember me. Maybe she won't for the rest of her life.

But that's ok.

Sitting next to her, I can feel her gentle curiosity about me, who is this boy sitting next to her was. I turn and smile at her gently,

"Halmeoni, it's me, Yoochun. Your daughter Young Min's son. Your youngest daughter's son."

There's a light of recognition in her eyes as I mention my mother's name. Her baby.

"Ah Young Min's son…Yoochun…"

She lapses into a slow silence as her words begin to fail her again. The light of the summer afternoon sun hits her delicately wrinkled face. Her eyes begin to close in the heat, as she wipes away the droplets of sweat that begin to form on her brow.

"Halemoni, are you tired?" I ask softly.

She nods slowly.

"How can that be? When I just arrived you had just woken up from your nap Halemoni. It's like you don't want to see me," I pout as I smooth the seemingly permenant wrinkles on her forehead gently with my fingers.

She ignores my first attempt to wake her, and just closes her eyes contently. Smiling I start to say,

"Halemoni…"

"Aigoo," she groans impatiently, "If I'm tired I'm tired there's nothing that can be done. Aish…why do you keep bothering me?"

I can't help but laugh at her flash of temper. She's surely my mother's mother. The way they both exclaim when they're impatient; the way they both wipe their forehead, even the way they close their eyes were eerily similar.

"Halemoni, do you love me?" I grin bashfully as the childish words exit my mouth, silently I gave thanks that no one was around to hear me.

She's silent again. Her breath makes her chest fall gently, up and down, up and down. I reach out for her hands and placed them in mine.

They're worn from years of scrubbing, from years of cutting, from years of caressing, from years of loving. The one memory I have of my halemoni from growing up involved these hands.

It's an ordinary one, something that most people wouldn't share or even remember. But it's something that I have held close to me and constantly think of, retelling it to myself, wearing it out with the constancy that I remember it with.

It had been around the time when my mother's entire family got together to take their family portrait. I was 7 at the time, and really hated taking pictures, so my grandmother had pulled me aside and said,

"Yoochun ah, if you do this well, I'll buy you some strawberry shortcake after we're done."

"What's that?" I had asked, imagining a tiny strawberry shaped cake.

"It's the best thing in the world. Your halemoni was eating it when she met your harabeoji."

Staring at her, I remember not knowing whether or not I should believe her, but nodding in agreement because she was my halemoni.

After the shoot she took me out to the nearby bakery and sat me down.

"Wait here," she told me as she went up to the counter to order. Sitting there I looked around the bakery. There are parts of this memory that I'm no longer able to remember now, but in the haziness of my memories I can recall the colors of the walls of the bakery, they were lime green. Lime green like the dress my halemoni was wearing that day.

"Tada," she was back with a small plate and upon it was a stacked cake with strawberries all over it and a large helping of whipped cream over it, "Here you go strawberry shortcake."

She picked up one of the strawberries from the plate and fed it to me.

Her hands were steady then, not the trembling shaky ones that laid in my hands now.

"Ah, halmonei, I almost forgot," I say, grabbing her thin hands, "I brought you something. It's in the room, should we go back?"

She's sleeping now, so I wheel her back to her room. There is a quiet kind of silence when I'm with her. It's steady and it's as if you can hear hearts beat if you listen hard enough. Entering her room, I gently wake her up,

"Halemoni, time to wake up. It's time to eat," I say as I take out the box that I had placed in the fridge earlier.

The walls of the room are white washed and harsh in comparison to her room at home. Her room was always colored brightly with various paints and flowers that she picked from the garden around her house. This room almost seems like the Antarctic in comparison, with its cold white walls.

Taking the cake out, I say, "Look what I brought you. Strawberry shortcake."

I'm painfully aware that our roles are reversed as I say this, but I also think it's a blessing for her in some ways. It's her turn to be doted on, her turn to be cared for, and her turn to forget the pains of the past.

She looks at me with a serene indifference, until I set it down in front of her. She doesn't recognize it. Like me from more than 13 years ago, she looks at it questioningly; and like her more than 13 years ago, I lift a strawberry from the plate and fed it carefully to her.

They say that our five senses can act as memory triggers and jolt us into past without much effort. I think that must have been the effect of her first bite of the cake.

After a while, she looks at me and says slowly, "Yoochun ah…"

She stops.

"Yes halemoni?" I ask softly, eagerly waiting for her to finish her sentence.

"Where is your harabeoji? He's been in the bathroom for too long, it's bad for his health," she asks looking around the room, "What is this place?"

"Ah, he's outside getting snacks now," I answer tensly, "Do you want me to go look for him?"

"Where is he?" she asks me with growing urgency.

"I'll go look for him, hold on," I answer hurriedly.

Walking out into the hallway, I sigh. My harabeoji had passed away over a year ago. Up until his death, ever moment of his life had been dedicated to my halemoni. Perhaps it was to make up for the lost time they had between them. My harabeoji had spent most of his life working, dedicating it to his country. Maybe this disease was a gift that the gods had given him, one last blessing. One last chance to rededicate his life to her.

But for her, it was a constant relearning of the news that broke her little world. I try to keep from telling her that he's gone whenever she asks where he is, but most of the time she doesn't remember him. She doesn't even remember the man she spent her entire life loving. She can't.

And that's the most heart breaking part of it all.

I stand outside of the hall and close my eyes, and I send my one true hope out to Heaven or whatever place makes wishes come true. To not forget. And if I did, I hope that there will be someone there to help me remember when that day does come.

Opening my eyes I walk back into the room, "Halemoni, how are you?"

She looks up at me and smiles slightly as she eats her cake.

"Do you want some?" she says offering me a spoonful as I walk up to her. Seeing her thin frame I decline,

"No, I already ate."

Turning away, she goes back to eating. She eats like a small child, eagerly and automatically. I sigh as I sit there watching her. In the air conditioning of the assisted living, the sun still manages to hit her as she sits in her wheelchair at the lone table in her room eating her cake.

Turning to me again, she asks, "Do you want some?"

I shake my head, "I already ate."

"Have some," she persists, "It's my favorite."

I relent and open my mouth. She feeds it to me slowly.

"It's good isn't it?" she asks me brightly as I chew.

I swallow and say, "Yes"

She smiles at me, "You remind me of my grandson. He's 5 now, his name is Yoochun, Park Yoochun…I hope when he grows up he'll be handsome like you."

She reaches up and feels my face with her hands,

"Yes, it would be nice if he grew up to be like you."

Smiling, I say, "I hope so too…"

My halemoni might not remember me, and she might never remember me for the rest of her life, but that's okay.

As long as I remember her.


End file.
